#A MAC CENTRIC ONE

[hcdragonwrites]

Missing Flowers ( @semisolidmind Fanfic)

I wrote this because I was inspired by another bit of work. This one is sweet ans short and Mac centric. Inspired by this ask! Twice as Bad Au make brain go brrrr

Tw for some violence mentions and some allusions to intimate behaviour (it is not detailed at all - in fact you may miss it entirely - but it is alluded to thats why I mention this)

As the sweet scents of spring created on the wind, carrying blossoms and the soft buzzing bodies of bumblebees, Peaches felt a deep pang of loss. Outside in the spring air, walking along the edge of the mountains with the small attendants she was given, she looked out beyond the sparkling sea. Beyond the mountains and the sky and all that lay between. She imagined she was looking homeward. To her village.

She missed her village, missed her people who she knew as family and as friends. She missed the smell of the earth, the taste of the rain on her tongue and how the sun angled itself through her shuttered windows to cast the dust motes in startling detail as they passed through the beams. It had been over a decade now since her marriage of ‘demonic fashion’ to the rulers of Flower Fruit Mountain. The ache never would go away- it would linger like a hole in her smile, a tooth lost and never replaced.

However it wasn’t her village today that was making her homesick.

Peaches had a little patch of earth, maybe an acre large that she had dedicated to the propagation of flowers and fruits, vegetables and all manner of growing things. It had taken years of careful selection, of collecting seeds from far and wide, of dedicated research and late nights in the snow and the ice and the building of her greenhouse to gather the collection she had had.

Peaches had turned the soil, mixing it with her grass clippings, ash from the fire place, and the compost to enrich it. It had been years of careful and quiet work to build her collection of plants. The glass bits for her greenhouse had costed her years and years of hard work. She had been unable to have it as large as she wanted but it was enough. Within the wooden little wall sat her favorite flowers, the precious few she had bargained and hunted for, the seeds and clippings, were all here safe within the wooden walls.

All her work over the past few years gone in a flash of fire and a slash of violence. What had happened to her little home? Was the house standing? Rotting in its neglect of the years. Did someone take over her home if it was still standing?

The stairs would need replacing. The second one had been creaking before her kidnapping. The wood had been softening and she had her eyes on a tree just beyond her garden. She had planned to cut it free and carve a new replacement. What of her animals? She had had a small herd of goats, little bleating creatures of brown and white.

The goats had been her source of fresh milk, meat and weed control. Each had been given a name. Each had been loved.

Had they been able to get away?

Had they been burned in the fire?

Peaches knew that the flowers and fruits she had were gone. Those couldn’t have escaped the fire - or the human retribution that would follow from any survivors.

Would Wukong have left survivors ? The Sage had come home many a times from such violence. He had woken her with cold hands grasping and seeking her out. He buried them in her hair or twined them in her fingers. Wukong would pull her to him and away from her own makeshift nest within their bed. In those early days he had not learned that the smell of fire and blood would upset her.

Those nights his blood had been on fire from conquest and he wanted only to enjoy the comfort of one of his dearest prizes. Her. Wukong would touch and whisper love into her ears as he fell asleep, a peace only she could bring in the aftermath of those bloodbaths. Sometimes she would wake in the morning to find blood smeared along her cheeks and in her hair.

It had been one of the times Macaque had found her hyperventilating after such a morning covered in blood that wasn’t hers, confused to where it could be from, and the memories of the night when the drunk had invaded her home.

And her world had changed. She had been pulled to his arms, her own chest pressing to his. Instructed to follow his breathing, to listen to the air whoosh from his body. To hold. Then to fill again like the bellows of a blacksmiths forge. And then to deflate.

When her breathing did not sound like the frantic flapping of a broken birds wing, thats when Macaque had asked her what happened. What had triggered her memories. Peaches asked how he knew- and her second husband rubbed a thumb beneath her eyes and caught a tear.

“You were screaming. Telling me to stop burning the village.” The words sounded sad. Not remorseful. Never remorseful for the actions that led here here. That brought her to residency in the mountain. The sadness was instead about the scars left behind, the invisible wounds that their actions had created.

After that, Wukong never came to bed smelling of blood or fresh from a conquest.

Wukong would never leave survivors of the village. Not after what he thought was a slight to her, to his perception of what was his. An extension of his own self importance. No. That seemed wrong even as Peaches thought it. Maybe she was an extension of his grandeur. But she wasn’t just a prize to be turned and looked at. Somehow, in some way, he had fallen in love with her.

Love for Wukong- for Macaque- was not like human love. Just as two peach trees could produce different fruits. Peaches knew that love between people was more of a communication, a build up to a relationship. At least in the best situations. Demons however … it was more draconic in a sense. To claim and catch, to conquer before another could take the prize between its claws and keep for themselves. Like dogs fighting over scraps, love was something to catch and hoard and keep.

Maybe it wasn’t so different from humans. Stories and mythologies had been woven of love like this. Men had gone to war and killed thousands of others in the name of one paramour, one love.

Wukong had done that. He had taken a conceived obstacle and removed it. He had snatched her as a wolf would steal a lamb in the cold of winter, taking her back to the mountain. Devouring her freedom to secure his happiness. When his brother came to see, to wonder at why their paramour was here. It hadn’t taken much convincing. It was as natural as breathing to take in their world.

Peaches attendants, those young ladies, waited patiently. Peaches stared out across the world and wished she had the eyes of eagles to stare and devour the miles so she could see for herself.

Was her garden truly gone? Had anything wild had been left behind ?

Had the apple trees gone wild? Were green granny smiths now growing wild among the pink ladys and dorsett goldens? Were the nectarines falling from the trees to rot beautifully in a horrid flash of sweet sick decay? Did the bees still pollinate whatever roses and hydrangeas survived ?

Had the fire consumed everything?

She missed her garden. Her plants. She missed her home.

She had been so lost in thought that she didn’t notice how her Ladies in waiting called out- she didn’t notice the shadow length beneath her feet. Until suddenly the ground was not ground at all but a gaping black hole- and she fell screaming.

Right into a warm embrace and soft fur that smelled like orange blossoms and plum wine. Laughter bubbled out of Macaque bare chest. “I would think the Queen would be more aware of her surroundings by now.”

Peaches pulled away enough to hook her husband with a scowl. It was half hearted as the demonic monkey dipped downward and pressed his lips to the side of her face in soft peppered kisses. Peaches laughed at the affection, able to ease into the comfort that the six eared macaque had grown between them. The chestnut trees above them rattled like ladies whispering as casting the sunlight like dice over a game.

“Some brutes don’t walk - some slink in shadows.” Peaches teased back. She lifted a hand up and along Macaques face. Her fingers touched his ears- all six on display today instead of being glamoured and hidden. The large clawed hand tightened beneath her as she brushed her hands over them. Macaque leaned into her touch, pressing his face, and her hand, into hers.

“Slink?” The monkey teased. They were beneath a cluster of chestnut and beech trees. A whole new position upon the mountain - possibly leagues across the great kingdom.

“Slink?” Macaque nipped her ear and she yelped in surprise- cheeky like. “I do not slink.”

And then the stomach flip as the magic pulled them in. The very shadows that seemed to seep and flow through macaques black fur, the ebbing of ocean currents between the jetties of his being. The cold kissed her nose, the sun flashed. Peaches blinked as the orientation of the sky reasserted itself. They were closer to Water Curtain cave now. The mosses and lichens that grew in the soft moisture were tell tale signs.

“I merely use what I have to my advantage.”The Six Eared Macaque pulled his wife into himself as he began to walk. In her decade here she had begun to see the mountain like a second skin. Each turn of stone was becoming like a new crease in her skin. Here she understood that, even though the forest was near the palace, it was no where she had treaded recently.

Her husband was taking her somewhere. But where ?

“You left my ladies in distress.” Peaches asked. The steps against the forest floor were soothing. Would she allow herself to be soothed ? It was easier for Peaches to forget the scars that marred her when it was Macaque. With Wukong …

It would always be a sore spot. Always be cut that had healed too thin and the scar left behind would ache in the cold.

“I left them with a note that said I was taking my wife for a moment.”

How different the world would be if they had just asked her to come with them. Had the two brothers even floated the idea between each other? Thought to show her the beautiful mountain and let her fall into it and in love with it ? Peaches knew she would have come. The beauty here was unmatched - the fruits and flowers and plants and growing things would have stolen her away faster then a demons courting could ever achieve. If her boys had only asked her… only shown her….

“How are you Peaches ?” Macaques voice was soft.

“I am… far away.” She decided to be honest.

“The memories again?” Soft, gentle. Her sweet boy was still there. Still within this … sorrow. Peaches had found the little monkey bleeding among her hydrangeas and honeysuckle. The white and purple petals were turned crimson and crushed beneath the tiny body. Of course he had been a wild thing, a furious flash of teeth and claws. Any animal would be. So when the weak little monkey bit into her hand she hadn’t flinched. Instead she had waited, taking a blanket to scoop the poor creature up and into her arms- and to contain those claws. The bite was foolish- what she did was foolish- but… she was a foolish women.

The bite was deep, the pain a lance in her mind. Those teeth were large enough, sabers in gums - knives of nature that cut into the soft pad of her flesh. He didn’t let go, he didn’t release her hand until the blood on his flank was cleaned. Until the gash in his side had been sewed shut. He was too weak to worry her flesh into ruin. To take his pain and tear her apart. He could have. Though small, though at a disadvantage, the little was gifted with weapons where Peaches had been gifted none. She was soft handed, soft as a magnolia flower. No claws no teeth no strength.

Yet he did not tear her apart. The tiny monkey was left alone after he was patched up. A bowl of water, a small basket of peeled mandarins. And the window- left open to let in the wet jungle air. Her kindness had cost her her hand- the day after it was purple and swollen. It was hard to work in the soil- to work in the garden and her little farm. She had carrots to pull, goats to milk, and trees to prune. By the end of the day she could barely close the hand and it had grown yellow on top of the purple. Like a plum trampled enough to ruin the flesh but not enough to break it open.

The next morning however, when she unwrapped to tend the wound and let it breath… she found the wrappings clean. The swelling was gone. The punctures were still there. But…. They had healed over.

She had been a fool. Peaches had thought it was from her tending that the wound had healed up. She had been a fool. Who would have known that her foolish heart would lead to this future?

“Its not just the memories- its a memory.” They had stopped walking now.

“Which one?” The leaves rustled above them. The air smelled of water and earth and stone. It was … calming. So the memory coming forward now wasn’t cast in sorrow. But in calm.

“Of you.” She reached up and pressed a finger to the very tip of his nose. “Of the garden. When we first met.”

Macaque grimaced.

“Not my best introduction...” He looked down at her hand. The scar was still there, silver moons along her skin.

“Are you embarrassed?”Peaches teased. Macaque paused. He set her down onto her feet, kneeling. His hands caught her wrist- the one he had scared all those years ago- and brought it to his face.

“Truly I am. I mauled your hand.”He kissed it, rubbed a claw over the scars, worried at it with his lips and his tender forehead brushes.

“You were in pain. And you healed it.” Peaches pulled him up. Off his knees. In these moments, these tender touches, was the sweetness that had grown between them. There was the flash of that little monkey she had saved. Who had slowly begun to bring her gifts and treasures. His first gift had never been showed. Macaque had never been talked about- as it had required secrecy.

“Lao Tzi had chased me out.” The simian smiled into her face, teeth flashing like moonlight. “Heaven was in an uproar over my thievery. But … they thought I was Wukong.”

“Mac!” She beat on his shoulder in play. Roaring laughter was rewarded to her as the trickier of the two loomed over and draped his arms over her front, pressing her back to his chest.

“I couldn’t let them know it was me!” His teeth were in her hair, soft croons and gentle nips being pressed to her skin. “I was in a bit of a hurry.”

Her cheeky six eared husband then began to press her and tease her in a very flirtatious fashion that turned Peaches skin flushed and burning. It was long moments and minutes after the teasing and the stolen presses of kisses and promises for later, that Peaches decided to open her heart a bit more to him.

“I miss it all. I miss the house and the village and …. I miss the garden the most. All my plants. My animals…” Peaches rested her face in his arm, drinking in the plum wine and orange blossom smell that was so thickly wrapped in his fur.

“All the growing things… do you think they are still there ?” It was easy to think of it here, when Macaque had been kind and soft to her. When he understood what emotional wounds were still healing, still painfully sore. The rush of his heart was against her ear was nice.

“Have they gone wild and returned to the woods ? What of the roses- they are the hardest here to tend. And the magnolia trees….” A bird flitted and flew its way between the emerald leaves. A dolphin flying through a sea of emerald green.

Macaque spun her suddenly, his hand gripping hers, his tail flicking. She was pulled along, hands grasping his as they walked faster.

“Lets walk. We will go and see the orchards and you will tell me all the flowers you had and loved and never got to tend.”

“I would tell you anyway.” Peaches laughed softly. “I loved my flowers.”

The look of serious thought didn’t alleviate in the wake of her laughter.

“You will tell me in detail and what seasons they grow- and what habitats they grow in. Who the traders were that gave you the seeds and the clippings.” They rounded the corner of a stone outcropping, the path before them becoming more well trodden. The path to the orchards.

“And I want you to find a piece of the mountain- get that foolish orange orangutang of my brother to help you clear it and drain it and turn its soil rich.”

The realization was dawning on Peaches then.

“Ma-Macaque…” Was he suggesting what her heart was starting to hope?

“You get the land ready.” His fingers squeezed hers. “I will collect the seeds in my journeys. I will find the best lines and horticulturists and gather you a collection that will rival the one we foolishly took from you.”

His eyes held hers. It had the same effect that a sunrise had on a snow trapped forest. The light in them was refracted and doubled as Peaches felt her heart fill. She didn’t realize that tears were dripping until Macaque was reaching up to coo and rub them free, calling to her in comforting familial tones a monkey would use to soothe an create comfort.

“And I will be able to play within your garden and see you smile like you just did. I would bring down the lunar gardens to see you smile again… as you did when i first saw you in that garden. ”

[prolibytherium]

Dee & Mac's dynamic is still probably my favorite. I love how they straight up just dislike each other in a (relatively) uncomplicated way and have the weakest bond BY FAR and barely give a shit about each other, but still have this intense level of casual intimacy purely by virtue of decades stuck in the same group codependency pentagon. They're like in-laws.

[mascarponecupcake]

it’s always sunny in philadelphia is such a wild show bc one second you’re laughing at a goofy joke the next you’ve got tears in your eyes

[rebeltigera]

MASTERPOST SHADOWLORD AU

Story of kind "What if" , Macaque/ shadowpeach centric , heavily headcannoned , (OOC behaviour) Macaque didn't died fighting Wukong during Journey, instead he ran away to Bull family , healed and became a demon lord of his own little island , uknowingly to Wukong. The story itself begin after S3 , when MK powers started to mess around and he landed on Mac's island. Shenanigans ensure.

-DESTROYED TERRITORY ARC-

MK isn't the only one who can lift the staff Mentor coming to the rescue "Done for" Animatic Are you here for the boy? Or this. That's Enough! First Confrontation WHERE'S MK??

-TRAINING ARC-

Lesson number- 1 / 2 / 3 What do you know? The harsh truth Are you sure about it bud? Little talk

Hangout in the village

-BROTHERHOOD ARC-

Worry A clone came asking Lord and his advisors Redson and Nezha rescued from celestial realm

-SCROLL ARC-

Tormenting Wukong 1 / 2 / Tormenting Wukong Animatic Tormenting Wukong Animatic 2 ( No longer you) Rescue mission and wounds made by scroll

-BEFORE GREAT BATTLE ARC-

Azure got some guts to try to manipulate Apologies attempt at talking Attempt continuation Scars animatic Plan Just before the fight

-GREAT BATTLE ARC-

Mac getting unbenched Mac getting to fight Peng animatic Peng got fried Holding reality 1 / 2 Redson scolding his uncle

-AFTERMATH (basically healing arc, not really in order)

Maybe Wukong's help is an good idea? You must have been so scared Can we talk? mocking 1 / 2 Calm days 1 /2 Do we kick him out or let him sleep? Wukong got insomnia. Lullaby helps Chirping problem Wine party trio Ask for blessing ( PIF n DBK) animatic Pif got angry at that ^ Ask for blessing ( Chang'e) Animatic COURTING SEASON Courting season "argue" Oversensitive ears Moment of weakness That one lion king scene Every scar got a history PIF did an huge oopsie Kisss One drunk monke Nap destroyer Teasing Lantern Night

FAR FUTURE // DIYU

Wedding in Diyu is the gayest sh ever Lost again Vision -PAST (Wukong pov)

First sight How King fell in love Under the mountain What Wukong saw during the fight What Wukong found after the fight instead of his home Burned home Hallucinations Longing

-DEMON BULL FAMILY ARC (Mac's Past)-

Shadow realm is a savior The lie. Wounds Healing Longing Chang'e Long hair Ao Lie Dbk's inprisonment Training with the young prince Redson got struck with lightning in s1 Uncle support his nephew in romance matters Uncle teaches about make up

-OTHER- Mac n Bai He animatic Cuddle time Mamac Mac human fem ver Shadowpeach clothes Mac mech - if he had one Shadowpeach ref Mac kaiju Redson Ref Savage and Rumble

HONORARY MENTION AO3 STORIES are not mine but based off my AU AO3 " That time" series made by @lycorisketch

last updated : 22.02.24

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Framework is the most exciting laptop I've ever broken

From the moment I started using computers, I wanted to help other people use them. I was everyone’s tech support for years, which prepared me for the decade or so when I was a CIO-for-hire. In the early days of the internet, I spent endless hours helping my BBS friends find their way onto the net.

Helping other people use technology requires humility: you have to want to help them realize their goals, which may be totally unlike your own. You have to listen carefully and take care not to make assumptions about how they “should” use tech. You may be a tech expert, but they are experts on themselves.

This is a balancing act, because it’s possible to be too deferential to someone else’s needs. As much as other people know about how they want technology to work, if you’re their guide, you have to help them understand how technology will fail.

For example, using the same memorable, short password for all your services works well, but it fails horribly. When one of those passwords leak, identity thieves can take over all of your friend’s accounts. They may think, “Oh, no one would bother with my account, I’ve got nothing of value,” so you have to help them understand how opportunistic attacks work.

Yes, they might never be individually targeted, but they might be targeted collectively, say, to have their social media accounts hijacked to spread malware to their contacts.

Paying attention to how things work without thinking about how they fail is a recipe for disaster. It’s the reasoning that has people plow their savings into speculative assets that are going up and up, without any theory of when that bubble might pop and leave them ruined.

It’s hard to learn about failure without experiencing it, so those of us who have lived through failures have a duty to help the people we care about understand those calamities without living through them themselves.

That’s why, for two decades, I’ve always bought my hardware with an eye to how it fails every bit as much as how it works. Back when I was a Mac user — and supporting hundreds of other Mac users — I bought two Powerbooks at a time.

I knew from hard experience that Applecare service depots were completely unpredictable and that once you mailed off your computer for service, it might disappear into the organization’s bowels for weeks or even (in one memorable case), months.

I knew that I would eventually break my laptop, and so I kept a second one in sync with it through regular system-to-system transfers. When my primary system died, I’d wipe it (if I could!) and return it to Apple and switch to the backup and hope the main system came back to me before I broke the backup system.

This wasn’t just expensive — it was very technologically challenging. The proliferation of DRM and other “anti-piracy” measures on the Mac increasingly caused key processes to fail if you simply copied a dead system’s drive into a good one.

Then, in 2006, I switched operating systems to Ubuntu, a user-centric, easy-to-use flavor of GNU/Linux. Ubuntu was originally developed with the idea that its users would include Sub-Saharan African classrooms, where network access was spotty and where technical experts might be far from users.

To fulfill this design requirement, the Ubuntu team focused themselves on working well, but also failing gracefully, with the idea that users might have to troubleshoot their own technological problems.

One advantage of Ubuntu: it would run on lots of different hardware, including IBM’s Thinkpads. The Thinkpads were legendarily rugged, but even more importantly, Thinkpad owners could opt into a far more reliable service regime that Applecare.

For about $150/year, IBM offered a next-day, on-site, worldwide hardware replacement warranty. That meant that if your laptop broke, IBM would dispatch a technician with parts to wherever you were, anywhere in the world, and fix your computer, within a day or so.

This was a remnant of the IBM Global Services business, created to supply tech support to people who bought million-dollar mainframes, and laptop users could ride on its coattails. It worked beautifully — I’ll never forget the day an IBM technician showed up at my Mumbai hotel while I was there researching a novel and fixed my laptop on the hotel-room desk.

This service was made possible in part by the Thinkpad’s hardware design. Unlike the Powerbook, Thinkpads were easy to take apart. Early on in my Thinkpad years, I realized I could save a lot of money by buying my own hard-drives and RAM separately and installing them myself, which took one screwdriver and about five minutes.

The keyboards were also beautifully simple to replace, which was great because I’m a thumpy typist and I would inevitably wear out at least one keyboard. The first Thinkpad keyboard swap I did took less than a minute, and I performed it one-handed, while holding my infant daughter in my other hand, and didn’t even need to read the documentation!

But then IBM sold the business to Lenovo and it started to go downhill. Keyboard replacements got harder, the hardware itself became far less reliable, and they started to move proprietary blobs onto their motherboards that made installing Ubuntu into a major technical challenge.

Then, in 2021, I heard about a new kind of computer: the Framework, which was designed to be maintained by its users, even if they weren’t very technical.

https://frame.work/

The Framework was small and light — about the same size as a Macbook — and very powerful, but you could field-strip it in 15 minutes with a single screwdriver, which shipped with the laptop.

I pre-ordered a Framework as soon as I heard about it, and got mine as part of the first batch of systems. I ordered mine as a kit — disassembled, requiring that I install the drive, RAM and wifi card, as well as the amazing, snap-fit modular expansion ports. It was a breeze to set up, even if I did struggle a little with the wifi card antenna connectors (they subsequently posted a video that made this step a lot easier):

https://twitter.com/frameworkputer/status/1433320060429373440

The Framework works beautifully, but it fails even better. Not long after I got my Framework, I had a hip replacement; as if in sympathy, my Framework’s hinges also needed replacing (a hazard of buying the first batch of a new system is that you get to help the manufacturer spot problems in their parts).

My Framework “failed” — it needed a new hinge — but it failed so well. Framework shipped me a new part, and I swapped my computer’s hinges, one day after my hip replacement. I couldn’t sit up more than 40 degrees, I was high af on painkillers, and I managed the swap in under 15 minutes. That’s graceful failure.

https://guides.frame.work/Guide/Hinge+Replacement+Guide/104

After a few weeks’ use, I was convinced. I published my review, calling the Framework “the most exciting laptop I’ve ever used.”

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/21/monica-byrne/#think-different

That was more than a year ago. In the intervening time, I’ve got to discover just how much punishment my Framework can take (I’ve been back out on the road with various book publicity events and speaking engagements) and also where its limits are. I’ve replaced the screen and the keyboard, and I’ve even upgraded the processor:

https://guides.frame.work/Guide/Mainboard+Replacement+Guide/79

I’m loving this computer so. damn. much. But as of this morning, I love it even more. On Thursday, I was in Edinburgh for the UK launch of “Chokepoint Capitalism,” my latest book, which I co-authored with Rebecca Giblin.

As I was getting out of a cab for a launch-day podcast appearance, I dropped my Framework from a height of five feet, right onto the pavement. I had been working on the laptop right until the moment the cab arrived because touring is nuts. I’ve got about 150% more commitments than I normally do, and I basically start working every day at 5AM and keep going until I drop at midnight, every single day.

As rugged as my Framework is, that drop did for it. It got an ugly dent in the input cover assembly and — far, far worse — I cracked my screen. The whole left third of my screen was black, and the rest of it was crazed with artefacts and lines.

This is a catastrophe. I don’t have any time for downtime. Just today, I’ve got two columns due, a conference appearance and a radio interview, which all require my laptop. I got in touch with Framework and explained my dire straits and they helpfully expedited shipping of a new $179 screen.

Yesterday, my laptop screen stopped working altogether. I was in Oxford all day, and finished my last book event at about 9PM. I got back to my hotel in London at 11:30, and my display was waiting for me at the front desk. I staggered bleary-eyed to my room, sat down at the desk, and, in about fifteen minutes flat, I swapped out the old screen and put in the new one.

https://guides.frame.work/Guide/Display+Replacement+Guide/86

That is a fucking astoundingly graceful failure mode.

Entropy is an unavoidable fact of life. “Just don’t drop your laptop” is great advice, but it’s easier said than done, especially when you’re racing from one commitment to the next without a spare moment in between.

Framework has designed a small, powerful, lightweight machine — it works well. But they’ve also designs a computer that, when you drop it, you can fix yourself. That attention to graceful failure saved my ass.

If you hear me today on CBC Sunday Magazine, or tune into my Aaron Swartz Day talk, or read my columns at Medium and Locus, that’s all down to this graceful failure mode. Framework’s computers aren’t just the most exciting laptops I’ve ever used — they’re the most exciting laptops I’ve ever broken.

[Image ID: A disassembled Framework laptop; a man's hand reaches into the shot with a replacement screen.]

[semisolidmind]

(wanted to make a mac-centric au)

New Companion au

-everything about the ittw au, except macaque joins as a new companion and gets attached to reader cause she's kinda nice to him

-wukong is suitably spiced about it

-it's one of those "i can clearly see he's still not a good guy, why aren't you believing me, what do you mean our circumstances are basically the same" type of monologues for swk. bro doesn't understand why this guy who tried to kill them a lil while ago is all buddy-buddy with his human now

-this is kinda an excuse to have a white-furred version of mac who's less of a snarky bastard and more....nice is NOT the right word, but he wants to help. like, help reader and the monk exclusively. he doesn't really care about the other four but can play nice if he has to

-reader vouched for him after the impersonation incident, which, along with the buddha's assistance, saved him from swk's wrath. reader's argument was something along the lines of, "he's endangered, AND we just so happen to be on a quest for redemption so he'll fit right in!"

-as lonely and grateful to be alive as he was, the six-eared macaque begged to join his savior on the quest. the pilgrims could do with another powerful demon companion, couldn't they? (and just to save some grief, im gonna say they catch him before he can cannibalize any of the ffm monkeys. i ain't messing with that.)

-all the pilgrims but sun have accepted him into the group

-mac latches onto reader pretty hard. she's nice, she doesn't judge him too hard (but she still judges him, like he deserves), she helps remind him to be kind, she remembers to keep her voice down when speaking to him...he's getting gradually more and more smitten.

-of course, swk HATES this. that's his human!! this is his journey!! why does this asshole get to tag along and continue his attempts to steal both!? wukong knows six-ears is just trying to get a rise out of him, just trying to get him to attack so he can play the victim.

- macaque is only sorta trying to do that. what he wants is reader's attention. and an easy way to get it is by being hurt or upset. he clocked reader as the bleeding heart type the moment he laid ears on her, so any chance he gets; he's hurt~ monkey king's being mean to him~ he's only trying to help~

[seidenbros]

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we ask that you be patient with the writers as we are writing for you. 

Meet The Writers:

Áine, onthelasttrain on ao3/sprnklersplashes on tumblr/sprnkIrsplashes on twitter! I write for six of crows, heathers musical (veronica centric, jdronica, martha x heather mac), mean girls the musical (cadnis, damian+janis+cady, janis centric) and the osemanverse!!

Kassel, neptune-scythe on tumblr/neptune_scythe on ao3, twitter and instagram, writes for six of crows, specifically kaz-centric and sometimes inej-centric!! please do not request smut for physical intimacy for kaz from Kassel, thank you 😊

Steffi/Staff, seidenbros on AO3/seidenbros on Tumblr/staff1989 on Twitter. I write for Six of Crows (Wesper, would try Kanej and Helnik as well), The Witcher (Geraskier). More modern AUs than canon stuff, but both work, and the occasional NSFW stuff.

Find the form to fill out HERE

If you would like to participate as a writer, let us know!

[jingerhead]

Hello! It’s been hot minute since you’ve done a fic rec …. sooo pretty pretty please bless us with one ?

Hi lovely anon! I'd love to do another rec list - I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to answering this, but I hope you enjoy the selection. As always all these fics are andreil-centric unless stated otherwise, be mindful of tags and warnings and show all these writers some support!

Fluff

The One Where They Adopt The Cats by athousandstoriesleftuntold

Hold my hands tight by Faithpollen

You're Worth Losing a Bet by jaydreamz

Holy Ground by freshtaylorswiftduck

King of My Heart by marie_pothos

Lay All Your Love On Me by somebodytoundress

yeah i'll pay 7 dollars for that by archiveofourfoxes

Neil Josten, Sugar Daddy by tomat0head

When Neil Stole Andrew's Cats by LeosBrainrotvvv

Angst

You are in love by freshtaylorswiftduck (misunderstandings)

White Noise by Esmay_Writes (panic/anxiety)

Let's Go To the Beach by greencherrybomb (attempted assault)

the ticking of a heart by kariospy (depression, dissociation, panic attacks)

Broken Compass by JostenlovesMinyard (twinyard-centric, referenced abuse and assault)

So It Goes... by marie_pothos (light angst, mutual pining angst, mild sexual content)

Smut

Better than Sex by sillyunicorn6154

Floating with you by boredgojo (Bottom Andrew)

One Squeeze For Yes by bri_ghtly (aftercare)

Manufactured Urgency by andrewiel

No Kissing Challenge by zoellendraws

But I Can Try (If You Like It) by sambutwithbooks (fem andreil)

When I'm awake with you by TheseSmallDelights

you the type i wanna marry and keep you merry by miehczyslaw (fem andreil, omegaverse)

you are a masterpiece by coritkyo (bottom Andrew)

Longer

Little by Little by klarfire (incomplete, Neil and Nathaniel are twins, read tags for warnings)

Of Keyboards and Streams by PastelKnights (incomplete, streamer au)

100 days by doodlingstuff (incomplete, blind Andrew)

Who's your roommate? by neil_jos10 (Neil and Aaron are roommates, references to past abuse)

The Art of Being Human by kanekicure (merfolk au, part of the 'way down we go' series you should read itttt)

Growing pains of becoming a Real Person series by nightwalker4769 (Neil has a fear of needles)

A Tragic Beauty by rayla2tobe (incomplete, Sleeping Beauty au)

Absolute Favorites

roller rink kids (steady on your feet) by Major_816 (Mac is a god read all their works)

Thicker Than Water by Fortheloveofexy (vampire Andrew)

For The Dancing & The Dreaming by Tidalst (sorcerer Neil)

How to Write a Love Story by tomat0head (fake dating)

[flowerslut]

Years after their departure from Forks, the Cullens have lowered their guard, moved on from their fear, and made plans for the future. There is no sense in a life half-lived, but despite evidence that assures, Jasper refuses to let his guard down. He knows what dangers can lie uncovered. Eventually, the peace is shattered. A package and a poem arrive in tandem. It is a warning. It is a threat. If the Cullens want to survive, they have to act fast.

roots, a twilight fanfiction

coming to an Ao3 + a FF.net near you

Rating: M (for sexual assault, body horror, graphic descriptions of violence) [full list of trigger/content warnings here] Words: ~197k Canon Compliant / Post-Canon / Canon Couples / Jalice-centric

[preview of chapter one under the cut]

Jasper was annoyed.

Not at the high-pitched whine of the overworked Mac or the fact that he could hear Renesmee loudly complaining to Esme on the level below. It wasn’t the pungent odor of whatever Esme was using to clean the oven that drifted through the vents, nor was it the fact that his chair had started squeaking this morning and they were conveniently out of WD-40. He wasn’t even bothered by the fact that Carlisle had ignored three consecutive calls from his cell while he talked on his work phone, and hadn’t muted any of the calls, letting the rhythmic buzzing on top of his desk echo throughout the second floor. 

No. He was annoyed because Rosalie hadn’t answered his texts before their flight.

His eyes flickered to his phone where it sat, propped up against the unused lamp on his desk, before they moved back to the screen of his desktop. Then, he glanced toward the door of his study, back toward the phone, and then to the screen again.

He could hear the other occupants of the house moving about as the day finally ended and the night picked up where it left off. None of them were heading in his direction yet, but he knew that being interrupted tonight was guaranteed.

His last conversation with his wife flickered through his head and he frowned.

Jasper looked back toward his phone.

Then back toward his computer screen.

Eventually the annoying ‘SMS NOT DELIVERED’ notification flickered across his phone screen, mocking him with its stubbornness. He tapped the ‘resend’ button without another thought, restarting the arduous process of waiting for his damn text message to send.

It wasn’t his main focus tonight. His fingers clicked away on his keyboard, his attention focused more on the internet browser in front of him. 

They were undecided between two different towns now. “Some place new,” their youngest family member had begged. Renesmee had been begging for years now, pretending to be tired of the old homes they’d been shuffling between for over a century now (barely thirty years for her), and it looked like she was finally going to get her way.

It wasn’t for anyone’s sake other but Renesmee’s. They all knew that. It had been almost ten years since his niece had gotten the idea in her head that it would be fun to live somewhere “separate, but close.” Those had been the peculiar words she’d chosen while trying to explain the hypothetical tunnels that they could use to travel between the hypothetical three houses that would be built all “close together but far enough away that any neighbors wouldn’t see”.

They’d never had neighbors close enough to see what was going on in any of their homes, but even so, ‘separate but close’ had turned into a running joke. A ridiculous joke that was inching closer and closer to becoming a true project they’d be taking on soon.

Bella still blamed her daughter’s idea on some urban exploration video she’d watched one too many times during, what she’d called, Renesmee’s ‘breaking-and-entering phase.’

That particular phrasing still made Jasper laugh. 

But Edward had rolled his eyes before going off on another tangent about ‘ethical responsibility’ that they’d all heard some variation of before. He’d never been entertained by his daughter’s adventures across North America as she journeyed into every rusted, grown-over abandoned building she could find, and even less thrilled with the way she’d been enabled by her built-in best friend. 

When Edward told Renesmee no, Jacob usually told her yes. Vice versa. Rinse and repeat.

Jasper’s eyes flickered toward the door across from him, then toward the screen of his phone. The red notification flashed right after he fixed his gaze back on his computer and he, without looking, reached out and pressed ‘resend’ again.

Jasper knew that thirty-six thousand feet above the Pacific Ocean didn’t make for a great place to receive text messages, even if the plane’s wifi worked. Knowing Rosalie, she would enforce her and Emmett’s ridiculous ‘no phone’ rule until they landed at LAX. The only person who had ever protested to that limitation on family vacations had been Alice, and then later, Renesmee had joined in.

Nowadays it was only enforced on trips where Rosalie was around.

Of course Rose and Emmett both checked in every few days for a handful of minutes. They sent pictures, asked how everyone was (Renesmee, mainly) and shared a quick anecdote or two from their trip across South Asia. It was one of the places they hadn’t explored yet, and because they didn’t seem to want to be careful or do more than the basest amount of research into their travels, someone had to.

Jasper brought up another internet window. It had only been minimized, and he was trying not to watch it too closely. (He was barely even watching it at all.) It only took a few seconds to refresh the tabs in the window. Their flight coordinates updated, their plane’s flight progress trip refreshed, and finally the rental car shop around the corner from the airport in Manila updated their systems, confirming the prompt return of their coupe several hours before.

They were still a few hundred miles from the coast and out of radar range. Until their flight was back in line-of-sight range from a tracking station and off of satellite tracing he would continue to refresh the page periodically.

It was something to do while he clicked between ‘for sale’ advertisements in Elkins, West Virginia and in towns around the outskirts of Erie, Pennsylvania. The two towns weren’t similar in many regards, except for more cloud cover than the average small town. The hundreds of acres of affordable land was what had become most appealing to Esme, who had already begun to draw up ideas as to what their new home—or homes—would look like.

Of course Esme had also been far too willing to indulge Renesmee with her planning. It provided her with two things: the ability to keep her entire family close, and the challenge of designing and constructing multiple homes.

The upstairs loft area was covered end to end with sketches and blueprints and fabric samples. Alice had been forced to utilize her smaller sewing machine as of late, even moving it into his study so she could work “with some god-forsaken space to think” while fixing up a few of her current projects.

 Jasper laughed when she first complained under her breath that the power of suggestion was useless in the face of Esme with a project underway. She’d ranted more than once to him over the past few months about how she’d have to restitch every hem she’d applied to the family’s winter wardrobe once Renesmee’s curtain-and upholstery-designing lessons were done with. When Jasper had suggested she use the area when Renesmee and Esme weren’t around, she just whined more about “the principal of it all!” and had since then refused any alternative ideas.

The power of suggestion, he noted, was also useless when it came to his wife.

Jasper sighed quietly and regretted it instantly. The footsteps that had been halfway toward the stairs at the end of the hall paused, and with a turn and a skip, he knew his peace was as good as over.

He minimized his pages of tracking details and pulled up the real estate website on his browser. Two seconds later, a peculiar knock that lasted several seconds and included a variety of multi-finger taps and scratches, echoed through his study.

“Is that The Prophet’s Song?” He asked, without needing to. They both knew that was the beat that had just been rapped against the wood.

A frustrated groan carried through the door before it was flung open. Renesmee’s exasperation was as clear in her tone as it was in her aura. “What the hell!” She flung her hands up dramatically before letting them fall to her thighs with a slap. “You’re too good at that,” she complained. “It’s so annoying.”

“If you keep picking songs from popular bands it’s going to be easy.” He fixed his eyes back onto his screen as she strode in. She didn’t bother closing the door behind her; anything they said would be heard throughout most of the house whether the door was open or not. “That’s also the third Queen song you’ve chosen this month.”

“I’m on a Freddie Mercury kick.”

“Is that so?”

“An 80s kick, really.” 

“That song came out in ’75.”

She huffed. “You know what I mean.” Jasper knew he wasn’t getting out of this conversation easily when she didn’t sit herself down on the couch or the chaise beneath the window. Renesmee perched herself on the edge of his desk and grinned at him. “Dad doesn’t think I should get to have a room in Aunt Rosie’s house and their house so I’m digging deep into his favorite music eras.”

Jasper snorted. He kept his eyes trained on the screen as he clicked through photos of a few decrepit farmhouses on one of the properties he was looking at. “Very mature.”

“Thank you, I think so, too.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “At least I’m not campaigning for my own house. Which I totally could, by the way. Grandma said she’d help me design one and I know Mom wouldn’t fight me on it. Dad’s just stubborn.”

“He can also probably hear you.”

“No, he and Mom went ‘hunting’,” she stage-gagged and shuddered with all the dramatics Jasper had grown to expect from her over the years. He’d only met Bella’s mother twice, but sometimes he swore that Renesmee took after her more than she did either of her parents.

It was a theory that annoyed Edward, so naturally Jasper had adopted it into his belief system and brought it up at regular intervals.

He performed a quick sweep of the remaining auras in the house. Alice was down in the den with Esme, both of them highly amused by some conversation they were having or TV show they were watching. Carlisle was in his office, expelling a fragile exasperation that Jasper knew wouldn’t last, as he explained over the phone to a member of the hospital staff that yes, while he did want his patients to have a direct link to him for emergencies, a baby with repeated bouts of hiccups did not constitute as an emergency.

Jasper silently noted Bella and Edward’s absence. “Time to plot then, I suppose,” he hummed as he opened a new tab and prepared to research machinery rentals in Elkins. After they priced out how much it would cost to start construction there, they could get the ball rolling. The minimized window at the bottom of his screen was tempting him, but he pointedly ignored it. He could wait for Renesmee to leave before refreshing it.

Renesmee groaned and then laughed. “Aunt Alice is right!”

Jasper quirked an eyebrow but didn’t avert his gaze. He knew that, but— “About what?”

“You’re such a worrywart.”

He lifted his eyes to see her leaning overtop of two of his monitors to glance at the screen of his phone. The red words declaring ‘SMS NOT DELIVERED’ had flickered once more across the screen without him noticing. His unsent text message was still green where it sat in his phone.

He reached out for the device and turned the screen off before he pocketed it.

“Instead of sending them Zillow links you could just, I don’t know, ask them for updates probably. Not that Aunt Rosie will reply to either.” Jasper ignored her. Since she couldn’t see the screen he was looking at, he quickly closed down the browser that had held all of Emmett and Rosalie’s flight tracking information and trip details. It would take him a few minutes to hack back into the TRACON but it would give him something to do after Renesmee left. “Aunt Alice told me Aunt Rosie hadn’t replied to you in like, four days. I bet she blocked your number.”

He finally met her expression. Her shit-eating grin was the same one Edward wore sometimes.

Jasper rolled his eyes. “To what do I owe the harassment of my favorite niece?”

“And don’t you forget it!” She hopped up off of the desk and walked over to the couch, flipping through some discarded mail. “You really ought to open this you know,” she told him as she lifted up a letter from their new forger. “If Mom finds out you haven’t replied she’s going to steal this.”

Jasper stood and walked around his desk, taking both the unmarked letter and the rest of the mail from her hands. “Renesmee.”

“Uncle Jasper.” She tried to school her expression into something more serious as she saluted him, but the smile was still there on the corners of her lips.

He ruffled her hair before she could smack his hand away, then turned toward his file cabinets. “What do you want?”

“I want to go hunting!”

“No.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Why do you want your dad mad at me, too?”

A deal had been made last year when Renesmee got her way and they’d all agreed to do something different and start from scratch in their next town. She would have to turn her diet back to mainly human food before the new year, limiting her hunts to once a month and then, eventually, once every other month.

Something about theories surrounding her nutritional intake and the fact she needed to diversify her diet. Jasper hadn’t been paying too much attention to everyone’s renewed interest in Renesmee’s health. There’d been one incident in the past few years where her health had been taken into question—a flu that had made her bed bound for four days—but even that being a singular isolated incident hadn’t prevented it from turning into Carlisle and Rosalie’s main hobby.

“I thought you were the fun uncle.”

He cracked half of a smile at that. “We both know that’s not true.”

“If I go alone Dad will really have a bitch fit. You and Aunt Alice are like, the only two willing to let me do whatever without having an aneurism.” She paused. “Well, Mom sometimes, too.”

“Great. Talk to her when she gets back.”

Jasper almost felt bad about the wave of genuine frustration and acute disappointment that filled the room as Renesmee made a silent exit, not bothering to close the door behind her. If he weren’t currently occupied he’d probably consider her offer more. After all, she was right about one thing.

He loved his niece, but he didn’t give a damn what she did. If she wanted to test out whether hybrids could get tetanus or how much blood she could really ingest before getting ill, who was he to stop her?

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 14/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Fourteen: Needed

Tim settled in on Dick’s couch while I made dinner in the kitchen. “Are you sure he won’t be mad?” Tim asked as he flipped through the channels on Dick’s TV.

“Have you seen the inside of the fridge? Dick hasn’t had a homecooked meal in over a week,” I replied, “He’ll be happy to come home to dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Tim asked.

“Do you want mac and cheese or not, Tim?” I questioned.

“Shutting up,” Tim replied.

I took the mac and cheese out of the oven and removed the tray of wings from the top rack. “He’ll be here any minute. I’ll put his plate in the microwave. Do you wanna eat now or wait for—? He’s here,” I whispered as Dick came through the door. “Hey, Dick. Surprise—.”

“Hell no,” Dick interrupted, “No, you can’t be here. You cannot be here right n—. Do I smell hot wings?” I smiled and nodded.

“But if you can’t spare one afternoon on your brother’s weekend away from school… I guess,” I sighed, “I have no choice but to take our dinner to the crappy motel down the street. Come on, Tim. Let’s see if that motel will let us rent a room for the night without an adult.”

Dick held his hands up, reaching for me before balling his fists and shoving them to his sides. “Fine. Stay,” Dick replied, “Hi, Tim. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you guys.”

“It’s okay,” Tim replied as he checked his phone. He didn’t look up. Not even to acknowledge Dick. And I thought Tim would be thrilled to see him.

I served dinner, but Tim didn’t move from his spot on the couch. He was glued to his phone, which wasn’t like him during dinner. I set his plate on the coffee table and messed up his hair. “Earth to Tim,” I smiled. Tim looked up at me with big puppy dog eyes and showed me a news clip from an hour before.

“What’s wrong?” Dick questioned.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t speak. I stepped out into the hall and called Bruce. He answered immediately. I didn’t expect anything less from him. “What’s wrong?” Bruce asked.

“I need your help,” I replied.

*

Bruce met me on the roof of Dick’s apartment at ten o’clock. “Likely, they’re still alive. Don’t worry, I’ll see what I can do—.”

“They’re his parents. I need you to bring them home safe,” I interrupted. My stomach was in knots. I couldn’t stomach watching Tim go through what Bruce, Dick, and I went through. It was no time for me to be prideful. I was scared and trusted Bruce more than anybody to find Tim’s parents. If he couldn’t bring them home, no one could. Bruce nodded in full Batman cape and costume… Like he was hiding from me.

“I’ll do everything I can. Stay with Tim… I’ll let you know if I find anything out,” Bruce replied. He reached for me but ultimately decided against physically comforting me. He disappeared into the night, leaving me with Dick, Tim, and my feelings. I took the stairs back to Dick’s apartment, quietly resenting Bruce’s lack of outward emotion. I knew he cared, but I wanted him to show it. I wanted him to be human with me for a moment. I wanted a sign that I mattered more than the mask he wore. That felt like an answer.

I sat beside Tim on the couch, nudging him gently. He laid his head on my lap, curling up there with tears in his eyes. “I should’ve begged them to stay home. I should’ve listened to you—.”

“Tim, this isn’t your fault. I called the GCPD, and they will do everything to get your mom and dad home. Okay?” I lied. Not to Tim. To Dick. “You should get some rest. Tim, I’m here with you.”

“There’s nothing to do but wait,” Tim mumbled.

“Mhm, but your parents would never—.”

“They’re your parents too… We’re brothers, remember?” Tim interrupted. Any words I had in my head were lost to me after he said that. I choked on every word I tried to say as he sat up, locking eyes with me. We were never more related than we were at that moment. United in fear of loss. United in helplessness. I was his older brother, so I swallowed it and pulled him into a hug so he couldn’t see how scared I was.

Dick glanced at me while he ate at the kitchen island, and I nodded. His phone rang, and he licked his fingers before answering. “Hey, Donna. It’s not a great time—. My brother and his little brother are here,” Dick answered. He swallowed hard. “A family emergency… His brother’s not mine. Yeah… I’ll let him know you asked.” I nudged Tim, and he stood up while I pulled out the couch. “Yeah… I love you too.” Dick hung up. “Jason, Donna wants to know if she can see you tomorrow morning.”

Donna and Roy were the only ones of Dick’s friends that came to see me in person when I was in the hospital. Donna thanked me once when she visited, but she thought I was unconscious. She thanked me for letting her vent when she wasn’t sure of herself. I never had the heart to accept her gratitude. Working with the Titans felt like it happened an eternity ago. I wasn’t the same person. I didn’t have all this rage back then. I wondered if she saw me—. I wondered if she’d see how quickly my insides rotted. I wondered if she’d see how far I’d fallen. I lost my hope, and all I had left was my anger, frustration, and stubborn desire to claw my way back to the person I used to be. I liked that Jason a lot better… And I think I was that Jason with Tim.

“Jason?” Dick asked.

“Okay,” I replied, “Did she say—? Was she just—?” I couldn’t ask him what I wanted to.

“She’s gonna flip when she sees you. The last time she saw you—...” Dick trailed off. I was half out of my mind. The doctors didn’t think I would make it, so they’d put me on morphine. When I could speak for myself, I had them take me off it. I couldn’t hear a thing she said over the pounding in my chest. I must’ve cried the entire time. I was a mess. I wished I was dead. I couldn’t look away from her, and she wouldn’t have let me. Everything after that was fuzzy.

I turned toward Tim, forcing myself out of that terrible memory and back to the present. Tim lay curled up without a blanket, asleep on the couch bed. “Dick, do you have extra blankets? Tim’s gonna freeze half to death,” I mumbled. Tim. I had to take care of him until Janet and Jack got home. I knew that’s what they’d want me to do.

Dick grabbed a few blankets from the hall closet and gave me two pillows before messing up my hair. “Are you ever gonna go home?” Dick asked.

“I don’t know, Dick. Even if I wanted to—. I don’t want to, but—. I’m never going to leave Tim. I know you don’t get it, but—.”

“You’re his brother, and you wanna look after him… Unlike—.”

“Dick, I don’t resent you. You had your own problems back then. So did Donna and Roy—. Heck, all of your friends were struggling. I get it... You came to the hospital. You joked around with me when that was the last thing I wanted… Because you knew I needed it. You don’t have to keep beating yourself up,” I interrupted, “And you don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“I know. It’s just—. It’s nice to see you smile again,” Dick replied. I half-smiled and nodded. “Get some sleep. I’m not going anywhere tonight.” And he meant it. Even though I couldn’t sleep, it felt nice having Dick there, watching from his chair until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. I got up and draped a blanket over him.

Then, I whispered something to Tim that I wished I hadn’t. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

[mitten-kittens420]

I miss early seasons of sunny.

And not really the type of jokes— I think dark humor is hilarious (duh) but some times they were a bit much. But I miss the dynamics. I feel like it’s even stretched up to s10 but the past few have felt so different. They felt out of character even though it’s still the same writers and the same characters and what not.

I guess I just miss when it seemed like The Gang actually cared about each other a bit. As much as they could, anyway. They’ve always been pieces of shut but they’ve always been each others pieces of shit, and it was special.

Even if they were doing something for their own gain, there was always a hint of them doing it for each other. Like, for example, Charlie Got M*lested. Dennis and Dee went full on private investigator, and sure they were only trying to “help” their their own ridiculous ego-centric/competitive reasons, but the factor the matter is they were still trying to help Charlie. In Charlie Has Cancer it seemed Dennis was truly concerned when Charlie told him, if not a bit uncomfortable. And I feel he only acted so weird because the way the Reynolds household worked when they were little. That’s a whole other post in itself, however.

In Dennis And Dee Get A New Dad, Charlie tagged along with Mac to visit his dad— and sure it was because the idea that Mac’s dad could be like a father figure to Charlie as well, but he was there to support Mac at the end of the day. As well as the fact they were so ready to beat the shit out of D&D’s biological dad for Frank.

In Dennis and Dee Go On Welfare, the twins hung out and acted like actual siblings. There was bickering and arguing sure, but that’s just how you act with your sibling. They hung out, they enjoyed each others presence, and it didn’t always have to be some huge joke about how everyone hates everyone.

Charlie Gets Crippled— when Dennis hit Charlie with his car it was real concern he had seeing Charlie in the hospital. As well as in Gun Fever when Dennis accidentally shoots him. You even see Dee talking to Colin about Charlie— letting him know Charlie’s okay. Like a friend does. Like you do when you care about someone. They even say they’ll help Charlie out with his rent!

There’s many more examples so I’ll just breeze through them here so this post doesn’t get too long. Dennis checking on Charlie and helping him write Dayman, Dennis knowing exactly how to calm Charlie down in The Gang Gets Extreme: Home Makeover Edition (and The Gang Goes to Hell), Sweet Dee Gives Birth, Dennis is a good brother. We see him being a good brother. And it’s not for any reason other than to care for Dee while she’s having her baby. Sweet Dee Has A Heart Attack, Dennis and Dee bond like actual brother and sister and he’s concerned about her well-being— actually concerned. In The Gang Wrestles For The Troops we see Charlie Dennis and Mac enjoying being together. We hear about them wrestling and having fun with one another and they stick together in those goofy fucking bird costumes. Macs Banging The Waitress: call it selfish desire or extreme attachment issues and an insane ego, but Dennis was troubled when Charlie and Mac agreed they were bffs and not him, he tried everything to get Charlie to change his mind. Charlie Kelly: King Of The Rats— I could write a whole essay on this episode alone. Dennis Dee and Mac went above and beyond for Charlie. Just to make his birthday special. Mac And Charlie Write A Movie: again, they just act like friends. Real friends. It’s obvious they cared for each other. In Charlie’s Mom Has Cancer they all try and figure out a way to help. And yeah there’s that whole subplot of Dennis not feeling anything, but I feel like that makes it matter more that he wanted to tag along to find a “cure”, whatever that cure may be.

And there’s so many more instances of them just…. Enjoying each others company. And I’m not saying it doesn’t happen anymore, I’m just saying it doesn’t happen nearly as often as it used to. It feels like now they’re just a group of ex-friends that all resent each other just below the surface. They had selfish reasoning, they always did, but they also cared about each other. The things they did, they did to try and benefit each other. And maybe it’s just because their characters are being flanderized, maybe I’m insane, I dunno. I just miss old Sunny.

[swagnuts01]

that episode kinda sucked. the metaphors were surface level and Dennis’ character felt reduced and 2D. the “it was all a dream” plot felt cheap. it was cool looking at how his mind works, but it added nothing to the plot, didn’t help build up to something like the extra room, the furniture, Johnny, etc. It felt overhyped, not by the fandom bc we had hope, but by some of the people working on it. It was shot beautifully, but iasip FEELS like iasip with shaky handheld cameras and simple shots. in the gang carries a corpse and mac finds his pride, they both had beautiful cinematography bc they wanted to show something big. this episode felt like it lacked substance and didn’t even help develop Dennis’ character. It possibly even worsened it. Idk it felt very disappointing especially compared to the other episodes AND the other season finales. it it were switched with say Frank Vs Russia or The Gang Goes Bowling, it would of been received better. It also showed no relationships- the gang did nothing in this episode. I know its Dennis centric, but damn they had like two to three phone calls (fake ones that were in his head) and that was it. It did show that Dennis sees the gang as a stressor and that they rely on him too much, and possibly don’t help him back. but yeah, thats my thoughts. it had potential but it was just kinda done wrong. felt too much like a drawn out gag.

[zagreuses-toast]

Playlist for Sybil my beloved. it was harder for me to find songs that match her character vibes (or at least my interpretation of her) from my library, which is where I harvest most of the songs for my playlists, so its a little shorter than the others. like Vime's playlist has Dad Music, this one has a fair amount of Mom energy (or at least MY mom's taste in music). explanations/categories for the songs under the cut

Sybil has that dragon centric autistic swag, and she refuses to conform to nonsense:

Whistling in the Dark by TMBG

Weird Science by Oingo Boingo

Life on Mars by David Bowie

Touch Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon

Walking My Gargoyle by the Gothic Archies (this is The Sybil song to me)

Human Behavior by Björk

Sam and Sybil songs (this time from sybil pov/themes, mainly about finding love late in life, devotion, and also a bit of loneliness, she has to share him with the city )

Take a Chance on Me by ABBA

Somebody to Love by Queen

Here is Home by Ryn Weaver

Home to Me by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (this one!!! loving someone who is always somewhere else, being the thing they come back to no matter what)

Too Tall Girl by TMBG

Me and My Husband by Mitski

Butterfly's Repose by Zabwa

Uptown Girl by Billy Joel

Washing Machine Heart by Mitski

Pink in the Night by Mitski (mainly for the back line, I think about vimes saying Sybil said she could do knots and crosses on his back , a lot)

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen (Sybil and her siege on Vimes's heart, which he caved to the minute he realized it was happening)

I Do I Do I Do by ABBA

Stuck In the Middle With You by Stealers Wheel (the clowns and jokers being the aristocracy)

Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood mac (reminds me of that guards guards bit with Sybil pointedly not staying at the door for Vimes' dramatic romance movie one last look over the shoulder moment, i love them so much your honor)

I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski (listen she has a TYPE)

Never Knew Love by TMBG

I think about that scene in Fifth Elephant where she is trapped and remembers what growing up as a large and kind girl is like, and then breaks out and kills a werewolf with an iron bar she ripped directly from the window. I think about it a normal amount:

You Cannot by Erin McKewon

It's Different for Girls by of Montreal

Smile! No One Cares How You Feel by The Gothic Archies

Not The Same by Sheldon Riley (also the autism feelings)

Misc:

Army of Me by Bjork

Bitch, Bitch, Bitch from Jekyll and Hyde

Ride of the Valkyries by Wagner (I had to)

[transmickey]

wednesday wednesday tag game wednesdaaaaay 🌻 thank you @jrooc for this week's questions + to @deedala @metalheadmickey @mybrainismelted @such-a-barbarian @dynamic-power @mickeysgaymom for also tagging me 🥰 hi pals

🔤 Name: ajax

🎶 Last song you listened to: house song by searows :’)

🎵 Artist on Spotify giving you the feels right now: noah kahan as always (how many times a day do i check if there's resale tickets available for his show here in a couple weeks? an embarassing amount.) (i am seeing him next year though. very excited :D)

👯‍♂️ Fave Blorbo Moment: lately i have been thinking about the 11x11 kisses So much.. they are so...... *breaks down sobbing*

🍟 Your guilty pleasure snack: white chocolate chip cookies 🍪 not much guilt though

🌮 What food are you craving today: mac & cheese..........

📖 Last fanfic tab you opened: my whiskey smells of oranges, which i am finally reading for the first time 👀

🖌️ Favorite fic project you've created: fics….. oh you mean all the ones i never finished or posted? haha *stares at docs* um. i have a mickey-centric one i really want to start working on again but motivation is non-existent. also reading back i may have been projecting a little bit too much

👩🏼‍🎤 Next tattoo you want (or would consider if you're not a tattoo person): i REALLYYYY want a haunted house but i keep putting it off and i don't know why!!! (my favourite song ever is i know the end by phoebe bridgers iykyk)

🧐🆓 What's living in your head rent free this week: 'is it over now' from 1989 tv. also cards against humanity all i do all day is wait to play cah (cahcahcahcahcah) (hi cah friends)

tagging some lovely lovely people if you would like to join in! @lupeloto @deathclassic @stocious @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @rereadanon @tanktopgallavich @skylerwinchester @golden28s @milkovichrules @krystallouwho 🫶

[sprnklersplashes]

hello all!

I've been contemplating this for a bit and I've decided to follow int he footsteps of other artists and use my writing to help palestine!

for the forseeable future, I'll be taking comissions for fics in exchange for donations to either operation olive branch or care for gaza, alternatively you can buy an esim!

to comission a fic, use this form. I will start writing as soon as I receive the prompt, but I won't publish it until I've received proof of donation. hopefully, the fic will be written in two weeks maximum, but please remember I am only one person.

I'll do a more in depth rundown of things I write under the cut, but the fandoms I have listed are Six of Crows, Heathers the musical, Mean Girls the musical, Gilmore Girls, Osemanverse and one ship from CAOS. If you know I ship something but it's not listed here, feel free to send me a dm and ask if I'll write it!

also if you're a writer for any of these fandoms and would like to get involved, please do reach out to me! we're stronger together!

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free!

Fandoms I write for:

Grishaverse:

-romantic wesper

-romantic kanej

-romantic helnik

-poly!crows

-any friendship pairing between the crows/found family

-familial dynamics between wylan and marya, jesper and colm and kaz and jordie

-character centric: wylan, inej, jesper, kaz, matthias, nina

-romantic zoyalai

-all can be canon compliant, canon divergent, show or book canon or au (please specify if you do/don't want one of these)

Heathers:

-romantic healthy jdronica

-romantic toxic jdronica

-dunnmara (martha x heather mac)

-romantic or platonic martharonnie

-anything veronica sawyer centric

-I will also write oneshots from the not beyond repair universe or the time won't fly universe 

Mean Girls:

-romantic cadnis

-platonic damian/janis/cady, platonic damian+janis

-character centric: janis

Next to Normal:

-anything natalie-centric 

-romantic henry/natalie

-natalie+diana, natalie+dan, natalie+gabe

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

-romantic theo/robin

Gilmore Girls

-romantic luke/lorelai

-romantic jess/rory

-familial rory+lorelai

-complicated familial lorelai+emily, lorelai+richard

-anything rory centric

Osemanverse:

-romantic nick/charlie, lister/jimmy, bliss/juliet, pip/rooney

-platonic aled/frances, paris squad, shakespeare squad (loveless)

-romantic, platonic or inbetween michael/tori

-familial charlie+tori(+oliver)

character centric: charlie spring, tori spring

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

for bingo -

Intubation or eating disorder for Dennis

Please please with a cherry on top 🙏

running home, running home, running home- prompt: eating disorder

Post S12. Dennis comes back from North Dakota perfectly fine.

TW ED!!!!

Read here or below the cut

North Dakota was supposed to be a fresh start. It was supposed to give him a chance to make things right, to do things differently this time. To free himself of the baggage of the past and live for a future in which he is a father- one worthy of the title. 

It was supposed to be a fresh start, so why the fuck did he stop eating there?

Things started slowly, of course, the way they always do. He aeroplane-d the spoon into Brian Jr’s mouth and simply forgot that a flight was supposed to touch down in his at some point as well. At restaurants, he ordered sides. Claimed he’d already eaten to keep the concerned looks from Mandy at bay. 

“Are you sure you're not hungry?” she’d ask him, brow furrowed with concern. He ought to have spoken to her about it- she would have understood. 

Instead, he forced a smile and nodded. Lied through his goddamn teeth. 

“I’m full. Don’t worry about me.”

The most pathetic part was that it made him look as though he was selfless, prioritising the nourishment of his child and co-parent while neglecting his own needs, when the truth of the matter was far more ego-centric. He didn't want to eat because he had to be perfect, and to be perfect? To be perfect, he had to be thin. Perhaps he could trick himself into believing that he wanted to be perfect so he could better raise Brian Jr. Hell, maybe there's even some truth in that. 

But only a little. 

By the time he gets on the plane back to Philly, having been gone for a year, everything about him feels wrong. There's a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach that he initially attributes to missing his kid, but doesn't fade even as he talks to the gang, an interaction that’s genuinely relieving. Nor does it fade when he heads back with Mac to their apartment, settling into his own bed while Mac sprawls out on the couch, snoring like a foghorn. 

He stares up at the ceiling, blinking past the colours flitting into his field of view. The dread widens. Turns into a total uneasiness. 

“Here, take some snacks with you for the flight! You need the energy. I haven't seen you eat in days!”

“Alright… thanks. I’ll call you when I land, yeah?”

He’d thrown the granola bars she gave him into a trash can in the airport. Food was unnecessary. Food was the enemy to perfection. To worthiness. 

The next morning he wakes up with his head swimming, barely even aware he fell asleep in the first place. His lips are chapped and his eyelids feel heavy, like he could drift back off and stay there for weeks. 

As he shuffles out into the kitchen, Mac greets him. There's no way Dennis can ignore the way his roommate has changed in the time he's been gone. Mac’s buff now. 

He looks good- great, even- but that little voice in Dennis’ head sneers every time he looks at him. 

God, he's so big, it's gross. He may as well have stuffed himself full of chimichangas again. 

“Hey, Dennis! You want eggs? I made a bunch of ‘em and there's no way I'm eating them all.” Mac asks between shovelling forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth. 

Dennis swallows queasily. “Uh, no. I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.”

A few years ago, Mac would have volunteered to peel an apple for him. Dennis would have eaten it. It’s the only reason he would have eaten anything at all that day. 

The thought makes him feel even more nauseous, so he pushes it aside immediately. 

“I’m… I’m gonna head to the bar early.”

“Oh, okay. See you there, man.”

Dennis slips into the back office, locks the door, and collapses into the chair there. Even the short walk from the bus stop (stupid assholes blew up his goddamn car) to Paddy’s has left him exhausted. His heart flutters worryingly in his chest. 

With nobody else to keep him awake, and no further reserves of energy to sustain him, he curls up as tightly as he can (God, he’s fucking cold) and falls into an uneasy slumber. 

**

3 weeks post-return, and the ground beneath Dennis’ feet feels unsteady. Literally. He keeps tripping over nothing, arms lurching out for purchase on the nearest object- usually Mac, sometimes Dee or Charlie. They laugh it off, and so does he, but he sees the way Dee’s eyes meet his knowingly. She’s been there before too. 

Mac’s mentioned a few times that Dennis looks thin, and each time it makes him puff out his chest with pride (even if Mac’s concerned look doesn't exactly scream compliment). At least now he doesn't seem bothered with attempting to solve that particular ‘issue’. He’s been a little more aloof since Dennis got back, and almost frightened of the man that he shares an apartment with. When Dennis walks into the living room while Mac is on the couch, the latter jumps like he's seen a ghost. It's probably because he's not used to the company now, and Dennis doesn't even try to make himself more of a presence. 

Instead, he’ll keep shrinking, getting smaller and smaller and thinner and thinner until he's barely visible at all. 

It’ll be like he never even came back from North Dakota in the first place. 

**

A month passes by, and for the rest of the gang, things seem to be getting back to normal. They start cooking up schemes again, schemes which Dennis only half listens to because they're hardly audible over the rush of blood in his head. He stood up too quickly. He's been doing that a lot recently. 

At one point, they end up at a Dave and Buster’s, something which pulls up uncomfortable memories of a time where he was younger and lobster meals weren't purged immediately afterwards. Charlie, Mac, and Frank gorge themselves on steaks while they talk about some plot or other. Dee gets a salad. 

Frank orders Dennis a steak too, but he only manages a few bites before pushing it away. His stomach feels unsettled. 

Dee catches him walking out of the bathroom afterwards, shaky and pale and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Her brows furrow in that way they've grown accustomed to doing lately, and that penetrative look almost makes him regret what he's just done. 

“You don't look well, Den.” She tells him softly. 

He pushes past the lump in his throat and the urge to sink into her waiting arms, instead curling his lip with distaste. 

“You’re one to talk. Leave me the fuck alone.”

She steps back, hurt, then stands a little taller. 

“Get some help. You clearly need it.”

Before he can force his sluggish brain to think of a retort, she’s walking back to the group and leaving him alone outside the bathroom, leaning against the wall for support. 

**

Rome wasn't built in a day, but it sure did burn in one. 

The shooting pains that begin in his back feel like the knives that brought Caesar’s death. His hands start to shake when he's trying to pour shots. He frequently trails off mid-conversation because everything in his brain is focused on survival, only the most basic life-preserving faculties retained. 

On his way back from the bar one day, he knows the fall of his own empire is imminent. Deep breaths no longer keep the spots in his vision at bay, and the gnawing feeling- that dread, yawning in the pit of his stomach- has turned into a constant screaming within. The urge to eat long since departed, but the nausea that replaced it grows to a fever pitch. 

“Hey, you okay?” Mac asks as they traverse the stairs to the apartment. Dennis realises belatedly that he's wheezing, the exact same god awful sound that issued from Mac’s lips when he was fat as shit. 

Is this his fate? To work himself to the bone for perfection and still be doomed to the same existence as a greed-ridden slob?

“M’ fine.” He answers through gritted teeth. Hauls himself up the final few stairs and through the door. 

“Are you sure? Because you kind of sound like you're dying, dude.”

For a moment, a sob threatens to bubble up from the depths of Dennis’ being. 

YES! Something deep inside screams. God, please help me, Mac, please for the love of God you have to fucking help me, I’m- something’s wrong, Mac, something's desperately wrong with me and I need you to-

“L-leave me alone.” He growls, breath whistling. His feet still carry him blindly towards the kitchen counter, somewhere he can lean against and regain some strength. 

Mac sighs. “Yeah… yeah, alright, fine.”

No. No. This isn't how it's supposed to go, Mac, you’re supposed to help me, why aren't you helping me, Mac?

Dennis takes another few steps forward, heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. 

Hummingbirds. He used to do those a lot, keeping himself in motion constantly. Perhaps now he's fully transcended past the need for hummingbirds- he’s becoming one himself. Everything within him is fluttering. 

His heart. 

His nerve. 

His… his eyelids…

He’s…. ohhhh, shiiittt…

“Dennis? Den?!”

His vision fades completely, and his knees buckle, but in the fuzzy darkness that consumes him, he still hears the muffled sounds of quick footsteps on wood, feels the comforting warmth of arms wrapping around his torso before he hits the ground. 

“Shit, shit, you’re okay, Den. I got you, man. You’re alright.”

For the first time in months, he hears himself sob, breathless and exhausted and guttural. Almost animalistic in its desperation to be heard, and yet so weak it probably comes out as no more than a choked whine. 

“Shhh, you’re alright… you’re alright… God, Den, you’re so fucking tiny.” Mac's words are wobbly, spoken through tears as his hand smoothes the hair back from Dennis’ forehead, stroking with all the gentleness that used to exist between them before the rot set in and everything changed. Decayed. I’m here now, though. I’m here now, I promise. I’ll peel you an apple, okay?”

His voice is nigh-on hysterical. 

“I’ll- I’ll peel you an apple, and everything will be okay, right, Den? Everything- everything will be okay.”

Dennis feels himself being lifted upwards, pulled limply into Mac’s arms. His eyes flutter open and the darkness dissipates for just a moment. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds. 

“I’ll peel you an apple, Den. I’ll peel you an apple and it’ll all be okay.”